


But, Harry, it’s George

by Biza



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biza/pseuds/Biza
Summary: George might not be the first person Harry would’ve considered, but he makes a little discovery that changes his perspective.





	1. Chapter 1

“Why do they have to stay in my room?” Ron complained, for at least the tenth time that hour.

Harry simply shrugged, feeling a touch guilty and knowing he had no right to complain about Fred and George’s presence. He was invading Ron’s room as well, without the excuse of an explosion making his flat unliveable, because he didn’t have a flat. He didn’t have anything but Grimmauld Place and he’d rather throw himself at Ron’s mercy than stay there.

“Stupid wedding,” Ron muttered, falling face first onto his bed, looking like he was attempting to suffocate himself.

Harry was in agreement with that sentiment. The Burrow was packed to the rafters with guests for Bill and Fleur’s upcoming wedding, which was why Ron had ended up with, not only Harry, but also the twins. They’d been relegated to sleeping bags and Fred was between Harry and Ron’s beds while George was between Harry and the far wall.

In Harry’s opinion, which he didn’t dare speak aloud, they were being rather gracious about it. They teased Ron, of course, but they didn’t appear to be upset about the arrangements. In fact, they seemed to be enjoying themselves and, if Harry didn’t know better, he’d think they’d blown up their flat on purpose. The timing was extremely suspicious, at any rate, with a house full of guests for them to prank.

They usually left Harry alone, so perhaps that was why he found it rather enjoyable to simply sit back and watch them in action. Ron didn’t remotely feel the same way, since he was one of their favourite victims.

It took Harry a moment to register that Ron was snoring. He shook his head with fond exasperation, recognizing that their conversation, however limited it’d been, was now over. It was probably the closest he would get to having some privacy, not that it mattered, considering the twins could arrive upstairs at any time.

Changing quickly into pyjamas, he made a trip to the loo and back before shuffling to his bed in the near dark. Feeling his way with his feet, he was surprised when he kicked something hard in George’s pillow. Cursing softly, Harry blindly reached for his wand on the nightstand and cast a Lumos Charm. He’d been an idiot for dousing the lights before he’d left to the loo, considering nothing was likely to wake Ron before morning, short of Voldemort Apparating into the bedroom. Or, appearing through Harry’s nightmares and the resulting screams waking everyone.

Curiously, Harry searched the floor, but all he could see was, indeed, George’s pillow and sleeping bag. It certainly didn’t appear hard and lumpy, but Harry was positive he’d felt something. Crouching down, he felt around with his hands until he found what he’d kicked. Some type of charm made the book inside the pillowcase invisible, but a quick charm revealed it to Harry.

He gasped as he pulled it out and saw the cover.

This was . . . unexpected. Finding porn wasn’t really all that surprising – neither Fred nor George were exactly shy people. Finding _gay_ porn, on the other hand, was a tremendous shock. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the cover and was aware he was already hard from staring at the picture of bare-chested hunks kissing.

It was the hottest thing he had ever seen, which was a little worrisome since he’d seen plenty of porn in the past. He did live in a male dorm and magazines were often found lying about, but they were mostly about girls.

His every suspicion about his sexuality solidified into fact as he continued to stare at the tongue-duelling brunettes. He wasn’t a frigid freak; he was a gay freak. He’d always wondered, and worried, why he wasn’t as turned on by all the talk about girls as the other boys in the dorm. More than once he’d caught himself checking out the boys in the school but had always forcefully turned away from those thoughts.

Now, there was no denying his feelings any longer. He was painfully hard and all he’d done was stare at a photo. Admittedly, it was a Wizarding photo so it was a bit like watching the telly, but still, it was just a picture. A highly erotic picture.

He whimpered helplessly, daring to open the book and see what treasures were inside.

_I clamped my thighs around his prick, feeling the heat as it nudged the back of my balls. I wanted him desperately and my hole was quivering in anticipation. This wasn’t enough. I needed to feel him inside me. Filling me._

With wide eyes, Harry realized he didn’t have the vaguest understanding of what gay sex entailed, but he intended to find out. He kept reading, utterly fascinated and extremely turned on. Which was a rather disturbing fact in itself, considering that the logistics of what he was reading sounded horribly painful and should’ve sounded disgusting.

But he wasn’t disgusted. Not like when he was reading about some girl’s dripping cunt. That was sure to turn him off in a heartbeat, making him feel slightly nauseated, but this . . . he shuddered, feeling his heart pounding unmercifully fast in his chest. His cock throbbed in time to the beat and he wasn’t certain he would survive reading much more.

_We changed positions and I spread my legs wide, pulling my knees to my chest and leaving myself as open and exposed to him as possible. His groan indicated that he appreciated the sight and my cock jumped in anticipation. The blunt head of his prick nudged at my hole and I did my best to relax._

Oh Merlin, they were actually going to do _that_. The bloke was going to stick his prick up the other bloke’s arse. And they both wanted it. Harry wrapped his fingers around his aching cock and squeezed, recognizing that he wasn’t averse to the idea. His resulting groan almost masked the sound of footsteps on the stairs and it took him a second to process the new information his lust-hazed mind was trying to give him.

When the danger finally registered, he shoved the book back and jumped under the blankets on his bed, quickly dousing the light from his wand, just before the door opened. He pretended to roll over in his sleep, making a desperate attempt to control his breathing.

He listened to the sounds of Fred and George preparing for bed and it finally hit him that the book belonged to someone. But that someone . . . it’s _George_. George was gay? Did Fred know about it? Was Fred gay as well? Or was it George’s secret? He’d barely been able to control his breathing before it quickened again, picturing George behind his closed eyelids.

“Hey, do you think Harry’s all right?” George whispered to his twin.

“Maybe he’s having a nightmare.”

Oh yes, definitely a nightmare, Harry thought hysterically, knowing that they were standing on either side of his bed and staring at him.

“Should I wake him?” George asked.

“He’s not looking so good,” Fred said, apparently in agreement.

“Harry . . .” George gently shook his shoulder. “. . . Harry. C’mon, mate, wake up.”

Harry groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “’m up,” he mumbled, wishing that it wasn’t true. Having George touch him wasn’t helping his situation. The heat from George’s hand travelled through Harry’s pyjamas to his skin and down to his groin, causing his cock to pulse, dangerously close to coming.

“You all right?”

Nodding into his pillow, Harry didn’t dare look at George.

“If you’re sure,” George said reluctantly.

“’m fine.”

The verbal response seemed to satisfy them and Harry listened as they finished getting ready for bed. It wasn’t all that long before he heard Fred’s quiet snores, but he wasn’t sure about George.

Deciding to take the risk and unable to hold back any longer, Harry pressed his hips into the mattress and couldn’t suppress his moan. He needed relief desperately. Several quick hard thrusts and he was coming, biting his lip in an attempt to remain quiet. He continued to lie there for a few minutes as his body slowly calmed but with his mind whirling crazily.

He couldn’t be gay. Wasn’t he already different enough as it was? He tried thinking about Ginny, but only felt an odd ache in his chest, one that he now recognized as the urge to protect her. He hesitantly thought about Ron and felt the same way.

Swallowing heavily, he turned his thoughts to George and his entire body reacted. He’d travelled from the land of denial to the land of lust in sixty seconds flat and it was an overwhelming rush.

“Fuck,” he muttered, finally fumbling for his wand so he could cast a cleaning spell. He flopped onto his back and wondered what the hell he was going to do now. He’d never be able to face George again. Not when he was awake, anyway. Rolling to the side of his bed, he looked down to George in his sleeping bag . . . and froze.

George’s white teeth flashed in the darkened room as he grinned up at Harry. “Feel better?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Didn’t mean to interrupt earlier.”

Feeling utterly mortified, Harry knew he was blushing and hoped it couldn’t be seen in the shadows. Did George know Harry had found his book?

“I, er, I . . .”

“It’s all right, Harry,” said George, sounding amused and almost . . . fond? “Go to sleep.” He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, not taking the opportunity to humiliate Harry further.

It was a long time before Harry heard George’s breathing even into sleep and even longer before he finally fell into a restless sleep himself.

He woke to a banging on the door and Ginny’s loud shout. “Wake up, you lazy louts!” She was answered by four matching groans. “Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said before pounding back down the stairs.

Harry cracked his eyes open, to be confronted by a curious expression from George, who was sitting on the floor and holding his pillow. “Harry, did you . . .” His voice trailed off as he glanced quickly at his brothers.

Blushing brightly, Harry didn’t answer verbally, but apparently the expression on his face was enough to answer George’s question. George’s eyes widened in alarm.

“You did,” George breathed, his voice barely audible.

Cringing, Harry nodded, unable to lie.

“What are you two whispering about?” Fred asked, his voice loud in the room and causing both George and Harry to jump guiltily.

“Nothing,” George retorted, recovering quickly.

“You best not be ganging up with them to prank me,” Ron grumbled to Harry.

Seeing the out, Harry forced a grin. “Would I do that?” he teased.

“Yes,” said Ron as he fumbled about for trousers and a clean shirt.

Thankfully, Ron and Fred were still half asleep and didn’t notice the tension Harry and George were feeling. The four of them dressed and stumbled downstairs. There were enough people present that it was easy for Harry to drift into the background. He said little, eating his breakfast quickly before escaping outside.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when George followed, trapping him in a corner of the garden.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” George asked nervously.

“Be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?” Harry said glumly, sitting down on a bench. He could feel the heat in his face and knew he was blushing horribly. He did _not_ want to have this conversation.

George sat down heavily before asking, “You’re gay?”

Harry shrugged, refusing to look at George. “It kind of got confirmed when I was looking at your book last night.”

“Oh.” George was silent for a minute. “So, you’ve never done anything with a bloke before?”

Feeling a new wave of heat turning his face scarlet, Harry shook his head.

“Look, I’m not going to tell anyone,” George said. “I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine.”

“Does Fred know?” Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity. “Is he . . .?”

“Yes, he knows, but no, he’s not gay. Just me,” George said bitterly.

“You, uh, don’t like being gay?”

“Oh, I like being gay,” George said, a faint grin lightening his features briefly. “That isn’t the real problem. Fred and I are already a disappointment to Mum. What do you think she’s going to say when she finds out I won’t be giving her any grandchildren?”

They were quiet as Harry mulled that over. It was a sign that George wasn’t as impervious to his family’s feelings as he usually pretended to be. George wanted to be accepted, just as Ron did. It was an eye-opening realization for Harry, knowing that George could feel vulnerable. It certainly made Harry feel less alone.

“Do you think she wouldn’t accept you?”

“Dunno,” George said, slumping miserably. “Probably, because Merlin knows she still wants even Percy back, but I don’t want to disappoint her. There’s enough going on already.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, sighing. He didn’t have time for a sexual identity crisis.

When Fred and Ron appeared, announcing that they’d been ordered to de-gnome the garden, Harry did his best to put it all out of his mind. They had a wedding to prepare for in a few days and he had a war to fight. Sex was not remotely amongst his priorities.

It didn’t stop him, though, from watching George. More than once George caught him staring over the next few days and always grinned knowingly. Harry would blush in response before returning to whatever it was he’d been doing. He tried telling himself that he didn’t fancy George, but he didn’t exactly convince himself. He didn’t think he convinced George that he wasn’t interested, either.

It was a relief that George didn’t say anything and neither of them acted on the situation. They left the tension humming between them and a week later the wedding was over and Fred and George were returning to their flat. Harry prepared for bed that first night without George, trying to tell himself that he wasn’t missing him.

Climbing into bed, he was in for a shock when he laid his head down on his pillow.

“Problem, Harry?” Ron asked as Harry jerked upright.

“Er, no, I just thought I might’ve remembered something, but I was wrong.”

Ron gave him a dubious stare before settling into bed and quickly falling asleep. Harry allowed himself a small groan for his idiocy before he retrieved the book from his pillow, knowing George had purposefully left it for him.

For the rest of the summer, he spent every spare moment he could afford reading through the book and learning a great deal about gay sex. He was almost grateful that he was sharing a room with Ron and had far more important things to distract him, otherwise he worried that he would’ve wanked himself raw.

The feelings of confusion regarding his sexuality gradually lessened, but he still had no idea what to do about it. He was busy searching for Horcruxes, but he found George invading his thoughts and dreams more and more often.

As September first neared, the debate was on regarding who would be returning to Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley gave Ginny no choice; she still had two years of school and was going back. Harry outright refused. He had more important things to do besides sit in classes.

Hermione, however, was torn. While she wanted to return for her last year and take her NEWTs, she’d promised to help Harry. It wasn’t until Harry pointed out that she was more useful to him doing research that she relented and agreed to go back to school. When left with the choice of following his best mate or his girlfriend, Ron decided to go back to Hogwarts for his seventh and final year, encouraged by Harry.

While Harry was glad his friends weren’t going to miss out because of him, it left him as the sole “child” under Mrs. Weasley’s watchful eye, which he did _not_ find acceptable. Staying at Grimmauld Place wasn’t his idea of a good time, either. Swallowing his apprehension, and wondering if he was just making up excuses, he trudged to the twins’ flat.

“Of course you can stay here!”

Fred sniffled, nodding his agreement with George. “We’re so proud. Skipping your seventh year.”

Harry rolled his eyes and relaxed into the cushions of the sofa. He wasn’t confident that this was a good idea, but it was better than his alternatives. He snuck a peek at George, who was animatedly discussing arrangements with Fred. This was definitely better.

Twenty minutes later, he questioned Fred and his sanity. “You want me to _what_?”

“Share a room with George. He never has anyone over, so he won’t mind.”

George had gone suspiciously quiet and Harry shot him a pleading look, receiving a small shrug in answer. “He knows.”

“He knows _what_?” Harry’s voice came out pitched higher than normal but he didn’t notice, too busy panicking.

“That you’re gay, same as brother dearest,” said Fred easily.

“You weren’t supposed to tell anyone!” Harry shouted at George.

George shouted right back. “I haven’t! It’s just Fred. You should know I can’t keep any secrets from him!”

“But you promised!”

“It’s just Fred,” George repeated.

“Should I be insulted?” Fred asked curiously.

Harry groaned in humiliation before deciding he couldn’t stay there after all. Getting up to leave, he was halfway to the door before George caught his arm and whirled him around.

“You’re not leaving.”

“Yes, I am,” Harry said, wrenching his arm away and starting for the door again. He was shocked as he was tackled to the floor with George landing on top of him.

“What the –? George!” Harry fought to get up but succeeded in only twisting himself onto his back, with George pinning him to the floor. He wasn’t given an opportunity to process that development before George’s mouth was on his, kissing him senseless.

Harry gave up fighting and surrendered instead. He’d never been kissed by a boy before and this was George, the boy he’d been thinking about constantly for two months. His senses were quickly becoming overloaded and he was seeing the proverbial fireworks. When George pulled back breathlessly, Harry realized that the fireworks were real. Fred must’ve set them off.

“Fred’s rather protective,” George whispered, “and he’s going to be pissed off if you hurt me by leaving.”

“I reckon I shouldn’t piss him off, then,” Harry said, staring up at George dazedly. “I don’t fancy being pranked to death.”

Smiling softly, George kissed Harry again, a light press of lips. “Fancy sharing a room with me?”

Harry hesitated, feeling off balance. He’d just had his first kiss, and now they were going to be sharing a bed? He frowned to himself. Although, George hadn’t actually said anything about a bed, only sharing a room.

“I promise to take it slow. Whatever you want, Harry.”

Harry nearly laughed. Slow? Good to know that George believed he had that kind of self-control. This was all new and thrilling and somebody was going to have to hold him back from jumping in with both feet.

He reached up and tangled his hands in George’s red hair and pulled him down for more kisses. It was easier and far more enjoyable than trying to think rationally. No one had ever told him that kissing could feel this good, or rather, he hadn’t believed them.

George pulled away abruptly and Harry whimpered in protest. “C’mon,” George said, scrambling to his feet and giving Harry a hand up. “Let’s go to my room. I don’t think you intended to give Fred a show.”

Blushing furiously, Harry darted a look at Fred, for the first time noticing him with his chin propped up on his arms, unashamedly watching the proceedings with open fascination.

“Don’t mind me,” said Fred, grinning widely.

“Yeah, don’t mind him,” George said, dragging Harry towards his room. “He won’t say anything to anyone. Of course, he’ll tease us unmercifully in private, but that’s all right.”

“That’s all right?” Harry squeaked in disbelief.

George stopped. “It’s not?”

“Of course not!” Harry said. “I get teased and hounded enough. This is supposed to be . . . well . . .”

George’s expression softened into understanding. “Safe?” he suggested. “Home?”

Harry suddenly felt ridiculous, wondering if George thought he was acting like a child, but he nodded anyway. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“It is!” George countered quickly. “I’ll get Fred to lay off you. Promise.”

Harry gave him a flat stare. “Do you remember who your brother is? And besides, you know this is just the beginning. If anyone finds out about us . . .”

“Is there an us?” George’s eyes revealed his hope.

“I, er, I want there to be an us,” Harry admitted. “I just don’t know that it’s a good idea. You’ll be in even more danger if anyone finds out and it’ll be all over the papers.”

George waved his hand dismissively. “When that time comes, we’ll just consider it advertising for the business.”

Staring incredulously, Harry started laughing helplessly.

George gazed at Harry earnestly. “I don’t care about that. I really don’t. I like you, Harry.”

“But why?” Harry asked, honestly bewildered. “I’m nothing special.”

“Nothing –” George spluttered and Fred laughed.

“I don’t know, George,” Fred said, shaking his head in amusement. “I think that one might be too humble for you.”

“Shut up,” George said, frowning irritably at his brother.

Confused, suspicious, and more than a little hurt, Harry backed away. “Harry Potter’s not real. He’s just some trumped up icon to appease the masses. That’s not me.”

Inexplicably, George grinned. “You’re not noble and brave and single-handedly attempting to save the world? You’re not the one who refuses to cave to the Ministry and has little respect for authority when they’re being arses? You’re not sexy and hot and absolutely adorable when you blush?”

Harry scowled, trying to ignore the blush that was heating his cheeks. “I’m just Harry,” he said stubbornly.

“You’re the Harry that loves a game a Quidditch and appreciates treacle tart? You’re the Harry that wants to be able to snog whoever he wants without it becoming front page news? You’re the Harry that could care less about being famous, but would do absolutely anything for your family, even chase down an evil dark lord?”

His voice softened, but the amusement was still evident. “I do know who you are, Harry, and I want the entire package. Even the less desirable famous part.”

“It’s dangerous to be with me,” Harry warned. “And I could die, you know.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll have to keep _that_ from happening,” George said, “but I do know you’ve got a dangerous job. I’m not going to turn parental on you and try to keep you from doing what you have to do.”

“You’ve already got Ron and Hermione acting as your parents,” Fred piped up. “Plus there’s Mum. You don’t need any more parents.”

Harry smiled ruefully in agreement.

“So, are we all right?” George asked hopefully. “Can we go back to snogging now?”

“Is that all you care about?” Harry asked, unable to stop the grin creeping over his features as he relaxed into the familiar teasing.

George grinned in return. “Of course. You didn’t have some strange idea that I’m mature or something, did you?”

“Never,” Harry said, yelping as George scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder. Laughing, he waved to Fred as George carried him off to the bedroom, caveman style.

~*~*~*~

The next few months were a mix of some of the best and worst moments of Harry’s life. With Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts, George and Fred took to shadowing Harry’s movements, but they never interfered. It was a novel experience, not having someone questioning his every step.

George and Fred took everything in stride. They never took offence at Harry’s foul moods, but refused to allow Harry to remain in a pit of despair. They kept Harry grounded, with unconventional methods.

Fred often covered for them so George could steal Harry away and snog the stuffing out of him before sending him back to fighting evil. The result was that Harry was as relaxed as he could possibly be while being at the centre of a bloody war.

His developing relationship with George gave him a confidence boost which affected other aspects of his life. He was strong and sure of himself, addressing the Order more and more often and taking on a firm leadership role. He developed a new calm maturity that bewildered people who knew he spent the majority of his time around the twins.

Christmas holidays arrived and Ron and Hermione came to the twins’ flat to visit Harry.

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, why?” Harry asked absently, his concentration on a book Hermione had brought with her.

“You’re just different,” Ron said lamely. “I mean, you’re so serious.”

Harry glanced up curiously before shrugging dismissively. “I had to grow up sometime.”

“But you’re living with Fred and George!”

His heart beating a little faster, Harry sniggered. He knew he was keeping secrets from his best friends, but he didn’t have time for the fallout that reveal would cause.

“They can be serious, you know. They’re not always pranksters.”

“Are you certain?” Hermione asked nervously. “They haven’t done anything to you, have they?”

He set the book aside and gave his friends his full attention. “Like what?”

“Like some kind of personality altering potion.”

His eyes widened incredulously. “You’re joking, right? I’m not that different, am I?”

“You are!” Ron burst into the conversation again. “I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re . . . you’re . . .” He waved his arms wildly. “You’re like Dumbledore!”

Harry smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not supposed to be,” Ron said, scowling. “You’re secretive and serious, yet not serious, somehow, and it’s all rather disturbing. And you’ve become best mates with Fred and George. That’s just wrong, Harry.”

“And utterly terrifying,” Hermione added, but she was smiling faintly at Ron’s dramatics. “We’re just worried about you. You seem almost too relaxed and confident, considering we know exactly what you’re up against.”

“Do they know?” Ron demanded.

“I told them, yeah.”

“Harry, they’re _Fred_ and _George_ ,” Ron said, as if that was explanation in itself.

“And I trust them with my life. Just like I trust you and Hermione,” Harry said with a pointed stare. “Now, I need you to trust me.”

Ron slumped in defeat as Hermione tried to protest. “We do trust you, but –”

“Then no buts,” Harry interrupted. “You either trust me or you don’t.”

He knew why his friends were concerned, but he also thought he knew the twins much better than they did. Considering his relationship with George, the twins had let him in like they hadn’t with anyone else. Most people, including Ron, only saw the pranksters. Harry knew better.

“We’re just worried about you,” Hermione repeated.

“I understand that and I agree that you’ve got reason, considering I’m trying to defeat Voldemort. I’m just saying that there’s no reason to worry about Fred and George. They’re on my side.”

“They’re not on anyone’s side but their own,” Ron muttered.

“You don’t honestly believe that.”

Ron sighed heavily. “I reckon not, but they’re still obnoxious gits.”

“Ah, they’re not so bad,” Harry said, grinning. “They’ve kept me sane the last few months, haven’t they?”

“Have they?” Hermione questioned dubiously. “You do seem more confident, but I don’t know if that just means you’re taking even more risks.”

Knowing that was not an argument he would win, Harry quickly diverted the subject. “I’m doing everything that needs to be done.” He held up the book she’d brought. “So, why is this important?”

She pursed her lips but allowed the subject change with a sigh. “Luna found it for me. It’s all about Rowena Ravenclaw.”

They were embroiled in a discussion about Horcruxes and possible locations that hadn’t yet been checked when the twins arrived.

“Harry,” Fred scolded. “You know you shouldn’t invite strange people into the flat. It’s extremely dangerous.”

“They’re no stranger than you,” Harry retorted, sharing a grin with George and wishing he could give him a kiss. Private time was likely to be in short supply over the holidays, but they’d survive.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Fred dismissively. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“It’s your turn to cook.”

“No, it’s not. It’s George’s turn.”

“It’s not mine! It’s Harry’s turn. He’s the one who’s brought company home.”

“They don’t count as company,” Harry protested. “They’re family.”

“Pfft, technicality.”

Harry scowled at Fred irritably, ignoring the fascinated stares from Ron and Hermione. “I’m busy.”

“So?” Fred retorted. “I’m hungry.”

“George?” Harry pleaded, giving him wide, puppy dog eyes.

George caved almost immediately, much to Fred’s disgust. “Fine, I’ll order pizza.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, beaming a wide smile at him.

“You can order pizza?” Hermione interrupted.

“Yeah, Harry taught us how,” George said.

“But how can you?”

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mobile phone.

“That can’t work here.”

“I live with the two most clever inventors on the planet,” Harry said dryly, tossing the phone to George. “It took a couple months, but the wards around the flat don’t cause interference any longer.”

Hermione restrained herself from all the questions that generated for a moment, with a more pressing curiosity. “You live in Diagon Alley. Muggles can’t deliver here.”

“Yeah, that’s the downside. We have to pick it up outside the Leaky Cauldron, but it only takes a minute to Apparate.”

“What is pizza?” Ron asked.

Even Hermione grinned widely at Ron’s innocent question. “Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

“But what is it?”

“Food.”

“Oh.”

With the pizza ordered and picked up, the conversation turned casual while they ate. Ron and Hermione caught Harry up with the goings on at Hogwarts and Harry and the twins filled them in on what was happening with the Order. They’d been keeping each other updated through letters, but it wasn’t the same, especially since they always had to be careful about what was put in writing.

General gossip gave way to serious speculation and eventually returned to the Horcruxes, the central part of the war that only the group of them were aware of.

“You’re sure this a good idea?” Ron asked Harry as he stared at his brothers warily.

“Sure that what’s a good idea?” Harry asked, thrown by the question, focused as he’d been on the book Hermione had brought.

“Telling them.”

Harry glanced over at Fred and George blankly, still not following the conversation.

“Telling them what?”

“About the _things_ ,” Ron hissed.

“The Horcruxes?”

Ron groaned, but nodded in defeat.

“I’ve told you, Ron, they’re the ones who helped track down Mundungus to get the locket.”

“I know, but you didn’t tell them _everything_ , did you?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. C’mon, Ron, they can be trusted.”

Ron didn’t look convinced, but he backed off, changing the subject. “You’ll be staying at the Burrow for the holidays, won’t you?”

“I, er, yeah. Sounds great.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“Would you,” Fred cut in, “if you were used to not reporting to Mum?”

Harry latched onto the excuse. “She hasn’t been very happy with me, so I’ve kind of been avoiding her. But that’s all right. I want to spend some time with you, so I’ll survive. Besides, it’s the holidays.”

Ron looked far more understanding and he relaxed, but Hermione was still watching Harry suspiciously. He knew that he was her latest puzzle and it was probably best that he spent some time away from George, or she was sure to figure it out quickly.

He knew George wasn’t going to be happy, and that was confirmed when George managed to trap him in the kitchen for a few minutes.

“Why won’t you just tell them?” George asked. “You know they’ll support you.”

“Do I?” Harry asked flatly. “Ron’s still a little angry with me for dumping Ginny. I don’t know that he’s going to understand me going with you.”

“Of course he’ll understand. He’s Ron.” George sounded desperate rather than convincing.

“Yeah, he’s Ron,” Harry said. “Which means he’ll be pissed off at me – and you – and he’ll blab to Ginny, your mum will overhear and you’ll be an outcast. _Then_ maybe Ron will come around and be supportive.”

“It wouldn’t be like that!”

“Then why haven’t you told them you’re gay?”

George’s shoulders slumped dejectedly and Harry continued.

“You do realize, don’t you, that if you tell them we’re together, they’ll figure out that you’re gay?”

A rueful smile twisted George’s features. “Yeah, I know, but I still don’t like this. It’s not like the family would quit supporting you.”

“In my experience, people will turn on you when you least expect it.” Harry glanced at the wall as if he could see Ron through it. “Even Ron.”

“What about Hermione?”

Harry shrugged. “I can’t see Hermione being extremely prejudiced, but she is Muggle-born.”

George stared at him blankly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Gays are often treated like Mudbloods in the Muggle world.”

“That’s stupid!”

“Of course it’s stupid, but gays can’t be treated much better here if you’re too afraid to tell your family.”

“It’s not a _gay_ issue,” George said, looking sheepish. “It’s more of a child issue.”

“Couldn’t we just adopt?”

George’s eyes widened. “You want children?”

“Well, yeah.” Harry bit his lip nervously before continuing. “I’ve seen some of the orphanages. You know, while I was searching for Horcruxes. There’s a lot of kids that need homes. I thought maybe . . . if I survive the war . . . and you were all right with it . . . and if you still want to be with me, of course . . .”

“Harry, stop,” George said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him close. “I reckon I forgot who it was I’m seeing. I’d love to adopt a gaggle of kids with you.”

Harry arched his eyebrows in alarm. “A gaggle?” He didn’t know how many a gaggle was, but it sounded like a terrible lot.

George grinned. “We’ll ask Mum to help with all of her grandchildren.”

Crossing his eyes, Harry tried to picture the flat with a half dozen kids running about. It would be an utter disaster. “Er, do you think we could get our own house first? A big one, maybe?”

George squeezed him tightly. “You want to know something, Harry?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you.”

Harry blinked in astonishment. “You love me?”

“Uh huh,” George said, grinning. “Now, you’re supposed to say you love me, too.”

“I love you, too,” Harry said dutifully, a smile beginning to take over his features.

“You have to say it like you mean it,” George coached. “Try it again.”

Harry grasped the nape of George’s neck and pulled him in for a heated kiss that left them both breathless. “I love you, too.”

“Mmmm, much better,” George sighed in content. “I don’t reckon I can carry you off to bed now?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Harry said with genuine regret. He dropped his ear to George’s chest, just listening to his heartbeat for a minute. “Merlin, I’m going to miss you.”

“We’ll work something out,” George said confidently. “And Fred’ll help.”

Harry snorted in wry amusement. “The last time Fred tried to help, we were almost caught by half the Order.”

George grinned at the memory. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t his fault your cloak slipped when you slid down the wall.”

“When I –” Harry spluttered. “You’re the one who dropped me!”

“You were all sweaty and slippery. I couldn’t help it!”

“Stop!”

Harry and George jumped apart at the sound of Hermione’s voice and watched in dread as her and Ron entered the kitchen, with a grinning Fred right behind them.

“Please stop,” Ron added his mournful plea, looking a little green around the edges. “I can’t listen to anymore.”

“You heard? Everything?”

“Everything,” Hermione said, her smile intended to be reassuring, even as she held up a pair of Extendable Ears.

Harry wasn’t feeling remotely reassured, however. He was feeling panicked and angry and wasn’t sure which emotion was going to win control of his body, but he knew he was either going to attack Fred or flee.

George apparently recognized the danger because he wrapped his arms around Harry again, but this time pinned Harry’s arms to his side. “Just wait a minute before you try to kill Fred, all right? Try to remember it can be useful to have someone around to torture.”

“Don’t you care?” Harry demanded, trying to look over his shoulder at George. “He outed you, too, you know.”

“I know, but it’s just Ron and Hermione. They’re your friends.”

“And so I forfeited my right to tell them because Fred’s an obnoxious git and you’ll side with him every single fucking time?”

“Harry, no!” George protested. “It’s not like that!”

“Isn’t it?” Harry said bitterly. He wrenched away from George and Apparated.

He learned that when he Apparated on automatic, he took himself to the Burrow. Apparating again almost immediately, he took himself to Hogwarts gates. Seeing the chains and locks, he thought about Apparating again, but decided to turn and head to Hogsmeade instead. Maybe Madam Rosmerta would sell him a bottle of Firewhiskey.

The walk helped him cool down and he soon felt like an idiot for overreacting. The anger didn’t ease entirely, though, because he was still upset with the lot of them. Fred for . . . all of it, George for condoning Fred’s choice, and Ron and Hermione for actually eavesdropping on his private conversation. He wasn’t even allowed any privacy from the people closest to him and that hurt.

Considering George had actually said those three little words, Harry thought he should’ve been feeling over the moon. Instead, he found himself wondering miserably if George loved Fred more. It was stupid to be jealous, but he couldn’t help it. He knew that Fred and George would always share a closeness that no one else could be a part of.

Most of the time Harry didn’t mind so much. But tonight, Fred had managed to ruin something that should’ve been special. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and respect Harry and George’s privacy.

Wanting to be alone, Harry trudged up the hill towards the Shrieking Shack instead of heading into Hogsmeade proper. He had no idea what to think about the fact that Ron and Hermione now knew he’d been seeing George. The resentment towards Fred bubbled again. He hadn’t wanted to deal with this right now and, damn it, Fred had known that.

Shivering and wishing he’d brought a cloak, he debated whether or not to break into the shack or to go home. He didn’t particularly want to go back, but he’d have to deal with them some time. The Firewhiskey was sounding like a better idea by the second.

He jumped in surprise and pulled his wand when someone popped into existence around the corner of the building.

“Harry!”

“George?”

“There you are,” George said, holding out Harry’s cloak as he approached. “I thought you might be cold.”

Harry shrugged into the cloak gratefully but didn’t say anything. He stared at the ground instead.

“I’m sorry,” George said awkwardly. “You’ve every right to be angry.”

“I just don’t understand why you had to back Fred. You knew I hadn’t wanted to tell them yet.”

“I know, but . . . it turned out all right,” George said earnestly. “Ron and Hermione, they’re all right with us and they’ve said they won’t tell anyone until you’re ready.”

That was probably good, but Harry didn’t trust it. “Fred said he wouldn’t tell anyone, either,” he said bitterly. He felt betrayed by all of them, even if he understood that he wasn’t being entirely logical. George loved him, his best friends were supposedly happy for him; he should’ve been feeling ecstatic.

“Come back to the flat,” George pleaded. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry muttered. He wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving, but he couldn’t stay outside all night, either. They Apparated back to the flat, but the others were gone. “Where is everyone?”

“Looking for you.”

Harry eyed George suspiciously, as he made his way to the kitchen to make something hot to drink. “And how exactly did you find me so quickly? I hadn’t even known I was going there.”

George cringed, clearly not wanting to answer.

“George,” Harry warned.

“I’ve got a charm on you, that allows me to Apparate to your location.”

“Why?”

“If you were captured or something,” George explained reluctantly, “I wanted to be able to find you and bring help.”

“I thought you were different, but you’ve just been treating me like a child like everyone else.”

“Damn it, Harry! I love you and don’t want anything happening to you. I don’t think you’re a child, but I don’t think you’re some bloody superhero, either. You’re not perfect and I just want to help.”

Harry stilled, suddenly understanding something. George really _didn’t_ see him as the perfect Harry Potter. George saw the Harry that was human and vulnerable. It was terrifying, and a little embarrassing, but it was also a relief.

“I don’t have to play the hero around you, do I?” he murmured.

George smiled faintly, amused, but still a little uncertain. “What do I want with a goody-goody hero?”

Feeling overwhelming relief and happiness, Harry jumped George, causing George to stagger before they landed against the wall.

“What was that for?” George asked, not sounding particularly upset. In fact, his grin was rather knowing and Harry proceeded to kiss it off his face. Before things could go too far, Harry pulled back.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” George said. “I didn’t realize . . . I don’t mean to make it seem like Fred comes first for me.”

“Forget it,” Harry said, trying to hide his hurt. “I’ve known how close you two are since long before we ever got together.”

“You’re jealous,” George said in surprise.

Harry looked away, realizing he’d done a poor job of hiding his feelings. “I’m not _jealous_ , not really. Well, maybe I am, but not the way you’re thinking. What you and Fred have, it’s special, and I just wish I had something like that. Which is impossible, considering I don’t have a twin. I don’t even have any siblings.” It wasn’t the entire truth, because he was a bit jealous of Fred, but overall, he really was aware of how special the twins’ relationship was.

George was quiet for a minute and his voice was soft and hesitant when he finally spoke. “I know you’re pissed off at Fred. And with good reason,” he added quickly. “But . . . he wasn’t trying to prank Harry Potter. He was trying to help out his brothers. Especially you.”

Harry looked at him in confusion, knowing there was something that George wasn’t saying.

George sighed. “I don’t know if this’ll make sense or not, but in Fred’s unorthodox way, he was saying he accepted you as my partner. He’s been careful not to show it to you, but the last few months haven’t been easy for him. You’re right, we’ve always been number one to each other, but it’s different now and he knows it, even if you don’t.”

“Are you saying Fred’s been jealous of me?” Harry asked in astonishment.

“A little. He knows how important you are to me and he knows he’s not number one any longer. It’s not been an easy adjustment.”

“And we’ve been putting you in the middle,” Harry said as his mind sorted through the sudden influx of information.

“You come first for me, Harry, I swear,” George said earnestly. “But please, don’t make me choose. I can’t do it.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry cursed softly, disgusted with himself. “I’m a right selfish prick, aren’t I? I’m so sorry.”

George’s expression was a picture of sheer relief which, ironically, made Harry feel even worse. He didn’t know what to do to make amends and his thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the living room.

“George? We can’t . . .” Fred slammed into the kitchen with Ron and Hermione tripping on his heels. “Oh, you found him.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, rushing over to give him a tight hug. “You had us worried.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, returning the hug awkwardly. His attention was on Fred, who was sporting a black eye and a swollen nose, that had obviously been bleeding earlier. “What happened to you?”

Fred touched his eye gingerly as he exchanged a speaking glance with George.

“George decked him after you left,” Ron piped up helpfully.

Harry turned wide eyes on George. “You didn’t,” he breathed.

George shrugged, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Oh, hell,” Harry muttered, sinking into one of the dining chairs.

“Don’t you feel guilty,” Fred snapped. “He was right to do it.”

Harry glared up at him. “I’ve made a right mess of things, and I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Ron asked in confusion. “And why do you look so angry about it?”

“Ron, just shut up,” Hermione said, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I think we’ve interfered enough.”

“But we didn’t do anything. Well, we eavesdropped, but we didn’t interfere. I haven’t even got a chance to congratulate Harry yet.”

“You want to congratulate me?” Harry asked in surprise.

Ron grimaced. “Well, yeah, because I reckon this does officially make you part of the family somehow, even if it is with George instead of Ginny. Are you two going to bond?”

“Can we?”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Harry shook his head, unable to explain that gay marriages weren’t legal everywhere. This entire situation was overwhelming. George loved him and they’d talked abstractly about adopting children, but bonding? He hadn’t even imagined that was a possibility.

“We’re happy for you and George,” Hermione said, giving him another hug. “And I’ll explain everything to Ron.” She gave George a quick hug as well before dragging Ron out of the room.

“So,” Fred spoke into the silence that had fallen. “Am I to be forgiven, then, or am I to be tortured to a slow death?”

“Tortured,” George answered promptly, “but not to death. That wouldn’t be any fun.”

Harry snorted. “Well, I’ll forgive you, if you’ll forgive me. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you two.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Fred. “You’re the least selfish person I know, Harry, which has made all this at least a little easier to accept. If I have to give up George to anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Harry’s throat closed up with pure emotion and he couldn’t speak.

“Fred,” George scolded lightly. “You weren’t supposed to break him.”

“Didn’t mean to,” said Fred, his usual grin back in place.

Harry choked on a laugh that managed to clear his throat as George crouched in front of him.

“All right?” George asked.

Harry pushed George backwards and slid out of the chair to sprawl on top of him. “Go away, Fred, I’m going to snog your brother.”

“I don’t see why you’d want to snog Ron,” Fred said innocently.

“Ewwww,” Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Wrong brother.”

“And here I thought you loved me,” George said mournfully.

Propped on his elbows, Harry stared down at him fondly. “I do. And I think you’re pretty damned special for being willing to put up with me.”

“Ugh! Sap alert!”

“Didn’t I tell you to go away?”

“Like I want to listen to this anyway.” Fred tossed his head haughtily as he left the kitchen, but Harry didn’t miss the grin.

“He really is happy for you,” Harry observed.

“I know, but I don’t care about him right now. Didn’t you say you were going to snog me?”

Harry proceeded to follow through with his promise, grateful the air between them had been cleared a bit. This relationship stuff was hard work, but the rewards were more than worth it.

~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

Harry shifted again, trying to get comfortable. He never used to have a problem with his bed at the Burrow, but now he hated the damned thing. There was no George in it, which made it rather useless as far as Harry was concerned.

“Merlin, Harry,” Ron’s voice came out of the darkness, “would you just lie still? You’re making me dizzy with your tossin’ and turnin’.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. “I just can’t get comfortable.”

“Because George isn’t here?”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. It makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Ron said. “Well, maybe a little. We are talking about George. Do you really love him?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Ron, I can’t help it.”

“But, Harry, it’s _George_. Couldn’t you find someone – I don’t know – better? Maybe a little more sane?”

“He is sane, and he happens to be your brother,” Harry said dryly.

“I know, but . . . it’s _George_ ,” Ron whinged, yet again. “I mean, I love him and all – he is my brother – but he’s not the most serious bloke around. Couldn’t you have gone for Charlie or something? He’s loads more mature.”

“Charlie’s not even gay, is he?”

“I dunno, but we can find out if we just ask him.”

“Ron, no!” Harry exclaimed, laughing helplessly. “I don’t want Charlie. I want George.”

“But _why_ do you want him? He can’t be good for you.”

“He’s sweet and funny and he loves me. I think he’s bloody gorgeous, with that thick red hair.”

“He looks like Fred,” Ron said flatly.

“Well, yeah, and that’s kind of disturbing sometimes, but George is softer.”

“Softer?” Ron said dubiously. “George?”

“I’m serious, but I don’t know how to explain it. George just moves differently than Fred. They’re a lot alike, but George is quieter.”

Ron snorted loudly in disbelief.

“He is,” Harry insisted. “When they’re not putting on a performance for people – when it’s just us at the flat – Fred is the one who does most of the talking. He’s a little bit wilder, with more sharp edges. He’s had Angelina over a few times and I’ve watched him. I know he really likes her, but he doesn’t act like it. He constantly teases her until I wonder why she ever comes back.”

“Doesn’t George tease you?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. George isn’t mean about it. Fred, well, you saw what he did earlier. He ignored mine and George’s feelings about everything, and encouraged you to eavesdrop, knowing what you’d learn. To be honest, as much as I like Fred, I worry about what he’d be like without George around to help calm him down.”

“You sound like you don’t like Fred.”

“I do, but I reckon I’m still a little angry with him.”

“Are you still angry with me and Hermione?”

Harry shrugged in the darkness before remembering that Ron couldn’t see him. “Maybe a little. I hate feeling like I never have any privacy. It’s difficult sometimes because I’m involved with George, but Fred is always there. You’d think I’d be used to it, but it just seems to get harder as more time goes by.”

He sighed, rolling over onto his back. “The thing is, it probably wouldn’t bother me so much, but I’m stressed out over everything to do with the war. I need George and George needs Fred, so when it comes down to it, I need both of them. They feed off each other and keep me laughing. They keep me sane.”

“Is that why you love George?” Ron asked. “Because he makes you laugh?”

“It’s part of it,” Harry admitted. “He’s good to me, Ron. I like who I am when I’m with him. And I know he’s a prankster and it seems like he’s never serious, but he is. He’s an excellent businessman, and he’s the most clever inventor. He’s charming and lovable. He doesn’t take things too seriously and he doesn’t allow me to, either. I can relax around him and just be myself. And, er, I doubt you want to know what we get up to in bed, but I will say he’s an excellent kisser.”

“No, that’s enough information,” Ron said quickly in alarm, causing Harry to snigger. They were quiet for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts, before Ron spoke again.

“You’re good for George, too, aren’t you? I mean, you don’t just like him, you actually respect him as a person.”

“I do,” Harry agreed softly. “There’s a lot more to him than the prankster everyone sees on the surface.”

“And you love him.”

“Yes.”

“All right, then,” Ron sighed. “I reckon I’ll get used to the two of you being together. Eventually.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said with heartfelt appreciation. Between dealing with teenage angst and attempting to survive a war, he needed all the support he could get.

~*~*~*~

“Ravenclaw. Nagini. Voldemort.” Harry thunked his head against the table with each word spoken, before repeating, “Ravenclaw. Nagini. Voldemort.”

“Harry, you’re not helping,” Hermione said reproachfully, stuffing a jumper under his head so he didn’t hurt himself.

“Harry’s right,” Ron said mulishly. “If we could only figure out Ravenclaw, he could end this.”

“And it sounds so simple, doesn’t it?” Harry said wistfully. “Just Ravenclaw, Nagini, then Voldemort. That’s it. Of course, Ravenclaw’s being a bitch.”

“Harry!” 

His expression turned into a fierce scowl and he went back to thunking his head against the table.

“It’s not Rowena’s fault,” Hermione retorted, adjusting the jumper under Harry’s head so it was folded thicker. “We don’t even know for certain that Voldemort used something of hers.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ron muttered, snapping his book closed in disgust. “We’re never going to be able to find this Horcrux.”

Harry paused in his head banging long enough to nod in agreement. “We’ve looked everywhere.”

The door slammed open, a cold breeze entering along with the twins.

“Oh, George,” Hermione said gratefully. “Do something with Harry, would you, please?”

“What exactly do you want me to do with him?” George asked, wagging his eyebrows suggestively as he moved to stand behind Harry and began rubbing his shoulders.

Harry groaned in appreciation.

“That’ll work,” Hermione said primly. “I’m just tired of watching him give himself, and me, a headache.”

“There’s some Skiving Snackboxes around here somewhere,” George said. “I could give you a fever or a bloody nose if you really want out of this strategy session.”

“I’ll take one,” Ron said.

“Ron!” Hermione scolded.

Harry lifted his head and grinned. He pulled George’s hands from his shoulders around to his chest, feeling suddenly better, even if he still didn’t have a clue where to find the last Horcrux. He tilted his head back to look at George.

“I don’t want to go back to the Burrow tonight.”

“Yeah, the bloody prat wouldn’t lie still last night,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Too busy missing _you_.”

“I just couldn’t get comfortable,” Harry protested, feeling the heat creeping up his neck and knowing no one believed him.

“Of course he couldn’t get comfortable,” said Fred. “He didn’t have his giant teddy bear to sleep with.”

“Are you calling me a teddy bear?” George demanded.

“What if I am?”

Harry sighed as the two got into a wrestling match. Without magic, they’d never be able to maintain a decent flat with all the things they broke.

Hermione watched them for a minute before turning to Harry. “Is he nice to cuddle with?”

Harry blinked in surprise at the question before he smiled. “Yeah. Those red heads are good for something, aren’t they?”

Hermione giggled as Ron whacked Harry playfully on the back of the head.

“I’m not a teddy bear.”

“You’re just not _my_ teddy bear,” Harry retorted, ducking before he got smacked again. The next thing he knew, he’d been tackled to the floor and was in the middle of the wrestling match, with Hermione cheering in the background. Apparently she needed to let off some steam as well.

As the smallest of the group, Harry didn’t have much of a chance, not if he didn’t want to actually hurt them. That, and he didn’t exactly fight back once George had him pinned to the floor.

“Now what are you going to do with me?” he taunted with a coy smile.

“Mmmm, I think I shall tie you up and ravish you.” The words were rather thrilling, but Harry was laughing as George attacked his neck with wet, sloppy kisses that tickled more than aroused.

“Ouch!” Harry yelped, as George nipped harder than he’d expected.

George grinned down at him. “I win.”

~*~*~*~

Harry sat up abruptly, breathing harshly as he attempted to orient himself.

“Harry?”

Ron. Not George, but good enough.

“Lumos.”

Harry blinked against the harsh light of Ron’s wand. “You all right, mate?”

“No. Voldemort’s . . .” He pressed the palm of his hand against his scar, trying to remember, but he couldn’t place anything aside from emotions. “He’s excited about something. A new plan of some kind. Snape . . . Snape’s carrying out the plans, whatever they are. It’s a reward.”

Ron had gone pale, but he scowled angrily. “I still think he’s evil.”

Harry lay back down, not wanting to get into that argument again. Given some time and distance to think things over, he suspected that Snape wasn’t as evil as he’d made himself out to be, but he had no concrete proof. Hermione agreed with him, though, which was something.

“Do you remember anything else?” Ron asked, his nervousness overriding his anger again.

“No,” Harry said miserably, rolling over onto his side. It wasn’t even enough information to take to the Order, although he’d probably tell McGonagall about it in the morning, just in case. He considered it to be too vague to be useful, but maybe it would mean something to her.

Ron reluctantly settled back into bed, but was soon snoring again. Harry lay awake for a long time, wishing he knew why he was feeling so uneasy.

He spent the next two days on edge, just waiting for something to happen. He’d informed McGonagall and she had the Order on alert, but so far no one had heard anything.

Voldemort continued to send pulses of excitement through the link to Harry, continuously taunting him without giving over any real information. It was driving Harry mad.

Mrs. Weasley asked the twins to stay at the Burrow with the extra danger about, and was comically surprised when they agreed without a fuss. Harry was comforted, though, because he had George to help him get through the night. He was in constant pain through his scar, which wasn’t relieved much by potions.

With only a short time left before Christmas, Fred and George were extremely busy with their shop and Harry reluctantly let George go without protest. As he attempted to play a game of chess with Ron after breakfast, he couldn’t help but feel that something was about to go horribly wrong.

“You’re acting like Trelawney,” Ron said, “and it’s freaking me out. Stop it.”

Harry recognized the concern and honest fear behind Ron’s teasing and wasn’t offended. “I can’t help it,” he said as he began to pace, abandoning the chess game. “It’s Voldemort. He’s happy. Very happy. And he’s making sure that I know it.”

“Should we let McGonagall know?” Hermione asked nervously. “Maybe she should notify the Order.”

“Notify them of _what_?” Harry snapped, before gesturing roughly in silent apology for his foul mood. “I don’t have anything to tell them other than the fact that Voldemort’s fucking around in my head.”

“I know it must be difficult, but surely –”

“You’ve no idea what this is like, Hermione,” Harry said flatly.

“But I do,” Ginny spoke up quietly. She was white and her face was pinched with worry. “It’s horrible to have him stuck in your head and you don’t know how to get him out again. You feel helpless and there’s nothing you can do but wait, because he’s made sure that you don’t know enough to change things.”

Harry slumped onto the sofa beside her and dropped his head into his hands. He and Ginny weren’t meant to be together, but they would always remain close because of shared experiences. He still felt a little guilty that he was with George instead of her, and she didn’t even know it, but she didn’t seem to begrudge the fact that they were no longer a couple.

“Isn’t there _anything_ we can do?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. “Ginny’s right. We sit here and feel helpless as Voldemort taunts me and we wait to see what the fallout will be. There’s not a damned thing I can do.”

“Why don’t you lie down for a bit?” Hermione suggested. “You’ve barely slept the last two days and I know you’re exhausted.”

“I can’t sleep,” Harry said, not wanting to admit out loud that he was _afraid_ to sleep, even though they were all aware of it.

“It might be the best way to find out what’s going on,” Hermione said, cringing in anticipation of Harry’s anger.

“Hermione, you can’t be serious? You _want_ Voldemort to attack my mind?”

“No! But if it would help . . .” She left her sentence unfinished and the tension in the room rose another few notches as they all thought about it. As much as he hated the idea, Hermione had a point, and he was at the stage where even false implanted visions would be better than nothing.

They weren’t given an opportunity to test that plan before their attention was drawn by loud shouting coming from the kitchen. Exchanging worried glances, they hurried to see what it was about.

“All of Diagon Alley is lit up and they’re gone!” Mr. Weasley was shouting.

“Who’s gone?” Harry demanded.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry and the others with stark fear written all over their faces. They focused on Ron and Ginny. “There’s been an attack at Fred and George’s shop. Witnesses say Death Eaters Apparated away with them, and the Aurors are trying to sort things out. It’s a bit difficult because fireworks are going off everywhere.”

“George,” Harry breathed, feeling momentarily faint. Hermione noticed, but the others were still talking rapidly.

She whispered urgently, “Harry, please don’t do anything stupid. The Aurors will get them back.”

He shot her a glare, but was oddly grateful because she’d helped him get a grip on his emotions. He tuned back into the conversation, hoping to learn something useful.

Mrs. Weasley was wringing her hands anxiously. “Isn’t there any clues?”

“Well, yes, but we don’t know what it means yet.”

“What is it?” Harry asked quickly.

“There was a message written on the wall of the shop. ‘Come after them if you dare, be warned I’ll kill the spare, love will be your downfall, so beware.’ We’ve no idea what it means!”

Ron and Hermione turned to Harry with wide, terrified eyes. “Harry, the message is for you,” Ron said.

Harry nodded grimly, feeling distinctly ill.

“For Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked. “But . . . do you know what it means, then?”

“Were there any other clues?” Harry asked desperately. “Do you know where they’ve been taken?”

“No, there was nothing else that’s been found so far.”

“Harry,” Hermione shrieked loudly. “Don’t you get it? Kill the spare!”

“The graveyard.”

She nodded jerkily. “It has to be. He gave you the clues to lure you there.”

“But why would he do it this way?” Harry asked. “Why didn’t I get a vision like he did before?”

“Because he’s actually _got_ George,” she said, her voice shrill with stress. “It’s not a ruse this time.”

“Oh gods, this is my fault.” He could feel the bile rising up his throat and forcefully swallowed it down. There wasn’t time to get sick. “I’ve got to go.”

“You can’t!” Hermione shouted, latching on to his arm. “Not by yourself. We’ll get the Order and the Aurors.”

“You get them,” Harry snapped, shaking free. “George doesn’t have time for that, and Fred could already be dead.”

“What?” Mrs. Weasley and Ginny shrieked in unison, having been whipping their heads back and forth in an attempt to keep up with Harry and Hermione’s rushed conversation.

Refusing to wait any longer, Harry ignored them and Apparated to Little Hangleton. 

The next hour was a blur of act and react that Harry would be hard-pressed to describe later. Voldemort was indeed at the graveyard with dozens of his followers, simply waiting for Harry. Harry marched directly into the trap set for him, uncaring of his own safety and knowing that help would be arriving soon.

Voldemort smiled coldly. “Harry Potter. How kind of you to join us. You didn’t bring any company with you? How disappointing.”

Harry simply glared furiously, eyes darting about in search of the twins.

“They’re not here,” Voldemort said.

“Where are they?” Harry demanded, focussing fully on Voldemort and wishing he could kill the snake faced bastard.

With a snap of bony fingers, Fred and George appeared out of thin air and dropped into a bruised heap in front of Harry.

“Good of you to join the party, mate,” Fred rasped weakly upon sighting Harry. “George is feeling a bit under the weather, though.” George was unconscious and bleeding from a head wound.

“I’ll get you out of here somehow,” Harry promised.

Voldemort cackled loudly in amusement. “Snape did ensure me that you would be more entertaining if I kept them alive a little longer. You will not escape me this time, foolish boy.”

“There’s help on the way,” Harry spat.

“And did you not think I would be aware of that? There are wards surrounding the area and only you were permitted access to cross them. The rest of the fools will be in for a bit of a shock when they attempt to pass.”

For the first time, Harry began to panic. Anger and adrenaline had got him this far, but now he felt truly alone. The help he’d been expecting would not be arriving.

“They will come and stand witness to your death,” Voldemort said in evident pleasure. “The warriors of the Light shall watch their Chosen One fall.”

The Death Eaters laughed along with their Master, but Harry still had hope that he could get Fred and George out of there, and maybe even himself. He’d been wearing an emergency Portkey around his neck for months. All he had to do was cross the few feet between him and the twins, without getting killed, and activate it. No distance had ever seemed greater as Harry wondered exactly how many wands were currently trained on him.

“Ah, the witnesses are arriving,” Voldemort said. “We shall be able to proceed shortly.”

Many of the Death Eaters were distracted and shifted nervously as Order members and Aurors popped into existence, but Voldemort was unfazed, continuing to watch Harry with cool amusement. His attention was only briefly diverted as the first members were shocked by the wards.

But it was enough time for someone to throw an object at Harry. It bounced off his arm and landed at his feet. Staring down at it, it only took him a second to recognize the hand mirror as one of the objects in the book about Rowena Ravenclaw. It was the Horcrux. It had to be. But where the hell had it come from?

Harry looked up and met Voldemort’s narrowed gaze. He wasn’t looking amused any longer. “Where did you get that, Potter?”

The Death Eaters were still distracted and Harry reacted on instinct, taking advantage of the unexpected opportunity. He took one step forward and slammed his foot down, shattering the mirror and releasing a horrible wailing and extreme bright light that caught everyone’s attention.

As pain radiated up his leg, he was aware enough to realize that he’d somehow set off a chain of events that was happening simultaneously around him. One of the Death Eaters had rushed forward and apparently had a Portkey, because they disappeared with Fred and George before Harry could barely register what was happening.

The breaking of the mirror had interfered with Voldemort’s wards and most of the Death Eaters were now attempting to defend themselves against the influx of Aurors and Order members. His plans foiled, Voldemort Apparated.

Harry, however, was grabbed by another Death Eater.

“Have you destroyed all the others?”

Harry was in pain and shock and the only reason he remained standing was because of the Death Eater holding him up. He didn’t even struggle, stunned by the destruction of the Horcrux and the suddenness of the situation, but as he was bodily shaken, he finally registered who had captured him.

“Snape!”

“Have you destroyed the other Horcruxes?” Snape repeated his question harshly.

“Yes, there’s only Nagini left.” Harry answered without thinking, his mind whirling dizzily. It didn’t help his equilibrium any when Snape jerked him down to avoid a hex.

“It’s time, then,” Snape said, dragging Harry away from the surrounding duellists. He was dropped behind a large grave marker.

“I’ll deal with the snake,” Snape said as he retrieved a vial from his pocket and thrust it into Harry’s hand. “Drink that,” he ordered. “It’ll restore your energy. He’s weakened now and you’ll be able to kill him.”

He pulled off his mask and glared down at Harry. “You _will_ be able to kill him, won’t you?”

Renewed anger bubbled in Harry’s veins as he saw Snape for the first time in months. While he registered that Snape was working with him, he still hated the man.

“I’m not Malfoy,” he spat. “I can do what I have to.”

Snape looked grimly satisfied. “Hurry, then.”

With the distant sounds of battle reaching his ears, and staring at Death Eater Snape, Harry took another huge risk and drank the contents of the vial. Adrenaline and anger was pumping through his body, along with whatever he’d drank, and he found he could stand on his own, the pain diminished to a tolerable level.

He exchanged a long, telling glance with Snape before Snape Apparated them out without a word. To where, Harry had no idea, but Voldemort obviously hadn’t been expecting them.

Snape had Voldemort’s wand and had killed Nagini with it before either Voldemort or Harry knew what was happening. The throbbing of his scar had started again as soon as they’d landed and Harry listened in a haze of pain as Snape denounced Voldemort.

It was difficult to focus, with so many things running through his mind. Everything in his life had led up to this moment. He thought about his parents and Cedric and Sirius. He was afraid to let himself think about George, not knowing yet what had happened to him and Fred, but it gave him the extra strength he needed to accomplish what he’d been born to do.

All of Snape’s built up anger coalesced into this one moment and Harry fed off of it, fuelling his own anger. He slowly raised his wand, pointing it steadily at the weakened Voldemort. He was ready when Snape shouted, “Now!”

Two words and it was over. Harry didn’t have a chance to appreciate that fact as his head threatened to split open. Pain greater than anything he’d ever experienced sent him to the ground screaming even as Voldemort fell dead, and he gratefully let darkness claim him.

~*~*~*~

“He’s coming round!”

“Oh, thank Merlin!”

“Shhhhh!”

Groaning, Harry briefly debated whether or not he wanted to wake up, but then the memories of what had happened came rushing back into his consciousness.

“George!” He sat up, clutching his forehead and squinting against the bright lights of the hospital wing.

“Right here, mate.” Fred’s face swam into view.

“Where’s George?” Harry asked, panicked.

“He’s in the next bed, and he’s all right. Just calm down.”

Frantically, Harry searched him out and heaved a heavy sigh of relief when he spotted George. “He’s all right?”

“Yeah, but Pomfrey knocked him out, thinking that would help his head heal. Don’t know what she’s thinking, since he’s never been normal in the head.”

“That’s enough out of you, Mr. Weasley,” Madam Pomfrey said primly as she bustled up to the other side of Harry’s bed, nudging Ron and Hermione out of her way.

He let her do her work without protest, taking the opportunity to look around. Ginny was there, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Even Charlie, Bill and Fleur were there, although they were sitting on the other side of George’s bed due to the overcrowding around Harry. They sent him warm smiles which he weakly returned.

“How’d you get away?” he asked Fred, who appeared to be the spokesperson for the group. Mrs. Weasley was too busy sobbing and the others simply deferred to Fred, but Harry wasn’t certain why.

Fred’s smile was twisted and morbidly amused. “Malfoy saved us.”

Harry was certain he’d heard wrong. “What?”

“Malfoy saved us,” Fred repeated. “The Death Eater that Portkeyed us out of there? That was Malfoy. Took us directly to Hogwarts gates, where Tonks and some other Aurors were waiting for us.”

Harry rubbed his forehead hard, wishing he could think clearly. Too much had happened at once for him to make sense of everything.

“Where’s Snape?”

“He’s in McGonagall’s office being questioned, along with Malfoy. She came through here a little while ago, muttering about Dumbledore’s portrait. He’s apparently got a lot to say now and he’s working to clear both Snape and Malfoy.”

“Good,” Harry murmured, feeling decidedly weak and tired considering he’d just woke up.

Ron started to splutter a protest, but was quailed by glares from Hermione and several members of his family.

“Snape did it, Ron,” Harry said quietly. “Because of him, the war is over.” He closed his eyes and tuned everyone out, unable to deal with any of it any longer. It would take ages to process everything and he didn’t have the strength for that at the moment. He drifted back to sleep, wishing he was in the next bed over with George.

The next time he woke, it was quiet and the lighting had been dimmed. He was making a mental assessment of his body, trying to decide whether or not he could make it to the loo by himself, when a slight movement of the shadows caught his attention. He sat up abruptly as Snape glided forward.

“You lived,” Snape said evenly.

“So did you.”

Snape tipped his head forward in acknowledgement.

“Thank you,” Harry said softly, not knowing if he would have another opportunity. He didn’t like the man, but he owed him his life. Snape seemed to pick up on his thoughts.

“My debts have been paid. Have a good life, Mr. Potter.”

With a swirl of robes, he was gone.

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

Harry whipped his head around at the sound of George’s voice. “You’re awake.”

George grimaced. “If you say so. Feels more like a nightmare to me.”

Intending to swing his legs around so he could slide out of the bed and go to George, Harry was thrown into confusion when his right leg refused to move. Cautiously lifting back the blankets to examine the damage, he was startled to realize his leg was bandaged from toe to thigh. He wondered how many potions he’d been drugged with not to have noticed it the first time he woke.

Staring blankly, he commented, “I reckon I shouldn’t’ve destroyed that Horcrux by stomping on it.”

George choked on a startled laugh as Madam Pomfrey appeared, either drawn by the sound of voices or she had a spell set to inform her when they woke. Harry had never been able to determine exactly how she knew when to appear. She bustled about quietly, seeing to their needs and answering a few questions before settling them down again for the rest of the night and returning to her office, or wherever she’d come from.

Sliding out of his bed, George came to sit beside Harry, sliding under the blankets with him.

“What’s wrong?” George asked, putting his arm around Harry and pulling him close.

“I can’t walk.”

“Yes, you can,” George scoffed. “You’re just going to be a little lopsided now. Just the way I like you.”

Harry sniggered, despite himself, and decided the pain medication must be working. “I reckon I should be thankful,” he admitted. “She said I’ll just have a slight limp, and at least my leg’s not dying.”

“You’ll be good as new in a couple weeks,” George said cheerfully. “But . . . do you think we have to wait that long before we can have sex again?”

“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry said with feeling. “Otherwise, what am I supposed to do with all my free time while I recuperate?”

George squeezed Harry a little tighter than necessary. “Can we not do this again anytime soon? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ve had enough excitement to last me at least a few years.”

“Let’s aim for _never_ doing this again,” Harry suggested. “If we get the urge for something exciting, we’ll throw a wild party or something.”

“Now that sounds like a plan,” George agreed. “Let’s start by planning a New Year’s bash.”

Harry buried his face in George’s neck, laughing helplessly.

~*~*~*~

Harry jerked upright at the sound of a loud screech, disoriented, but automatically reaching for his wand. George latched onto his arm, even as he shouted at Ginny.

“Shut up, would you?”

“But you . . . what are you doing in bed . . . together?” She stumbled to get the question out, her eyes darting back and forth between Harry and George. “You were . . . George was . . . you kissed him.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” George grumbled, but he looked nervous as the rest of the family appeared, along with Madam Pomfrey.

“Mr. Weasley,” she admonished. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She attempted to shoo him out of Harry’s bed, but Harry grabbed his hand and George refused to move, staring warily at his mother.

“Would someone care to explain?” Mrs. Weasley asked calmly.

“Harry and I . . .” George swallowed heavily before continuing. “. . . we’re together.”

“I suspected as much,” she said briskly, giving them each a quick hug before sending George back to his own bed. “I’m happy for you both, but right now you need your rest. We need you well so you’ll be home in time for Christmas.”

Harry exchanged glances with George before returning to gaping at Mrs. Weasley. “You . . . you knew?”

“A mother knows these things, dear,” she said. “I felt it best to let you decide when to announce your relationship. I understand it wasn’t exactly safe before, but now you can be open about your feelings without worry.”

“But I –” George didn’t continue, clearly confused by his mother’s acceptance.

She patted him on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, George. You’ve chosen a wonderful young man to share your life with.”

She turned to Harry next. “And you, Harry. It’ll be an honour to make you officially part of the family. I presume the two of you will be bonding soon?”

“I . . . I . . .”

“And I expect grandchildren still. Of course, you’ll have to adopt, but we’ll welcome the little ones, even if they don’t have red hair. It would be nice to have some more girls in the family,” she suggested hopefully.

“Mum!” George finally shouted to get her attention and stop her excited rambling. “Can you slow down a little? I’m not sure Harry’s ready for all that.”

“Of course he is, dear. The war is over now and he can settle down. You’ll have to get a house of your own. Probably best to get one sooner rather than later, considering your flat has been destroyed. I’m sure your dad can help you find something suitable, won’t you, Arthur?”

Mr. Weasley nodded automatically, staring at his wife in fascination. He glanced back at George, then Harry. “Congratulations, boys.”

Harry blushed as the others chimed in with their congratulations. He hadn’t expected this and he glanced at Ginny worriedly. She hadn’t said anything and looked to be in shock. “Are you all right with this?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said hesitantly. “It explains a lot, actually.”

Harry frowned. “ _What_ does it explain?”

“Why I couldn’t seem to interest you like I could with the other boys. I don’t have the right bits.”

Harry’s blush deepened as laughter echoed through the hospital wing. “I _am_ sorry,” he muttered.

She enveloped him in a huge hug. “It’s all right, Harry. I’m happy for you and George. A little shocked, yeah, but happy.”

Feeling a great deal of relief, Harry grinned over at George as he was attacked by his sister next.

“May I see to my patients now?” Madam Pomfrey asked, an amused and indulgent smile gracing her usually stern features.

~*~*~*~

“George,” Harry hissed. “I can’t kiss you here!”

“But there’s mistletoe,” George replied innocently. “You have to.”

“Everybody’s watching us,” Harry said, pleading with him.

“They know we’re together and you have to kiss me or I won’t give you your present.”

Harry smiled reluctantly and tried to ignore everyone else in the room. “You got me a present?”

George looked indignant. “Of course I did. Do I have to give it to you before you’ll kiss me?”

Harry pulled George in for the kiss he was angling for, making it one worth remembering. “Will that do?” he asked breathlessly, barely heard amongst the cheering going on in the background.

“Mmmm, yeah,” George said dreamily. “And that makes this easier,” he said, pulling a small package out of his pocket and handing it to Harry. “I believe this is your reward.”

Ripping the paper off eagerly, Harry was stunned as he opened the jeweller’s box inside. “George?” he questioned softly.

“Harry James Potter, will you bond with me?” George pulled the gold band out of the box and slipped it on Harry’s finger.

Harry gazed at the ring and then George in wonder. “Yes,” he breathed, before jumping George and landing them both back against the wall. If the first kiss had been something to remember, this one would be utterly unforgettable.

“Break it up, before you corrupt our parents,” Bill said, laughing. He was helping Fred pour glasses of champagne for everyone and they toasted the newly engaged couple. Harry couldn’t remember ever being happier as he relaxed in the ensuing celebrations. This was much better than celebrating the fact that he was now a murderer.

“Well, boys,” Mr. Weasley said, looking slightly misty-eyed. “If you’d get your cloaks, we’ll take a little walk. I’ve got something I’d like to show you.”

Harry gave George a questioning glance but only received a shrug in response. Glancing around to the bubbling excitement radiating from the others, he realized that he and George were the only two who didn’t know what was going on. He retrieved his cloak dutifully and followed along, certain they didn’t mean him any harm.

Once outside, George tucked Harry’s hand into his pocket as they ambled behind Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry simply enjoyed the closeness and the crisp wintry air, thankful they were walking slowly because, while his leg was technically healed, it was still sore. Everything was quiet and peaceful and it hit him suddenly that there was no longer a Dark Lord to taint the world and his happiness. He could just enjoy this moment without worry.

They turned up a narrow wooded lane, the trees beautiful in all their icy splendour.

“Why are we going up to the old Pleyton Place?” George asked curiously. “No one even lives up here.”

No one answered him and they trudged along in silence, a frown marring George’s features. He didn’t look worried, but he was definitely confused, which made Harry nervous.

“Something wrong?” Harry whispered.

“No,” George answered. “At least, I don’t think so. I just haven’t been here since I was little. Fred and I used to be friends with this kid that lived on this property and I loved playing up here. The family was killed, though, and I haven’t been back since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right,” George said quickly. “I’m not sad, really. It was a long time ago. I just hadn’t thought about it in ages, and I don’t know why we’re going here. You’ll like it, though. If we’re lucky, maybe we can conjure a sled. There’s an amazing sledding run back behind the house.”

Harry laughed at George’s cheeky smile. Trust George to remember and focus on the fun memories instead of the sad ones.

“Tell me more about it,” he requested, curious to hear more about George’s childhood. The rest of the family slowed down even more, despite the cold, as George regaled them with stories about playing on the property, with Fred chiming in periodically.

Much to Mrs. Weasley’s distress, they talked about the pond where they’d often gone skinny dipping in the summer. Winter was for skating on the ice. The creepy old attic had been a favourite play spot that even Ron remembered.

“We’d play pirates up there!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, we were the pirates, and you were our parrot.”

Everyone laughed as Fred squawked at Ron.

“Sometimes we’d sneak up here at night on our brooms,” George said, fluttering his lashes innocently at his mother.

“You were six!” she protested.

“We know,” Fred and George said in unison. “We were pretty proud of ourselves for not getting caught,” Fred added.

“How you two survived your childhood, I’ll never know,” she said, sighing. “How _I_ survived is another question entirely.”

The light-hearted laughter carried them round a bend in the snow-covered lane and they approached the sprawling house, lit up in front by fairy lights strung up through the trees.

“Is someone living here now?” George asked.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. “George, Harry,” he said formally. “Welcome to your new home.”

Harry could only gape in disbelief as George spluttered, “ _Our_ new home?”

“I do hope you won’t mind, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, sounding faintly apologetic. “The Ministry was discussing possible rewards and I suggested that this would be acceptable to you. I was certain it would be appreciated more than the new, gilded statue some wished to erect in your honour in the middle of Diagon Alley. A shame that it would’ve cost even more than the house.”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, as his mind conjured possible atrocities. “No, no, the house is great.” His brow furrowed thoughtfully as he looked from the house to George. “It’s brilliant, actually.”

“Good, good,” Mr. Weasley said heartily. “Let’s take a look then, shall we? I was given the honours of presenting it to you.”

They received a tour of the lovely old house and Harry found it absolutely charming, becoming more enthusiastic about moving in with each new room they looked at.

“It’s an amazing house, Harry,” George said excitedly. “Just think of all the things you can do with it.”

“It’s yours too, you know,” Harry retorted. “Although, I’d appreciate it if you’d try not to blow it up.”

“It’s your reward, not mine.”

Harry stopped and turned George towards him. “It’s ours,” he said firmly. He waggled his ring in front of George’s face. “You see this? It means we share everything. Your father understands that, and you’d best figure it out quick.”

“All right, all right,” George said, giving in with a smile.

“Whipped,” Charlie coughed.

“It’s his own fault,” Bill said. “He did hook up with the most powerful wizard in Britain.”

“I’m not!” Harry protested, receiving incredulous looks in response.

“Hate to be the one to inform you of this, mate,” said Fred congenially, “but yes, you are.” He slung his arms around Harry and George’s shoulders. “Only the best for my twin.”

“George?” Harry pleaded. “I’m not the most powerful.”

“It’s all right,” George said, nodding his head with mock-seriousness. “I promise not to hold it against you.”

Harry scowled, but knew he was outnumbered as everyone laughed. It was a good sound, and he couldn’t remain irritated for long.

“Just think, Harry,” George exclaimed suddenly. “We have a place to host our New Year’s Eve party now!”

Harry groaned in amused resignation. George would make sure he didn’t ever become bored with his life.

Everyone trooped back to the Burrow, but Harry and George returned a few hours later to spend their first night in their new home.

“Do you think this is a little fast?” Harry asked.

George stepped behind Harry and wrapped his arms around him. “Are you happy?”

“Yeah, but that’s just it. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, so I’m a little afraid something’s going to happen to ruin it. Besides, maybe I’m too young. I’m only seventeen, you know.”

“Harry, you were born older than me,” George said dryly. “If this makes you uncomfortable and you’d like to wait, we can. I’m all right with that and I’m willing to wait until you’re ready, but I’m happy here with you and nothing’s going to change my mind about that.”

Turning in George’s arms, Harry gazed at him curiously. “Are you really ready to settle down with me? I’ve never thought of you as the type, to be honest.”

“Thought I’d be happy tomcatting for the next twenty years or so?”

Harry grimaced, surprised at the feelings of jealousy that suggestion gendered. “Not exactly. You’re just . . . carefree. Happy not to be tied down and no rules to hold you back.”

“I do know I’ll have to make compromises,” George said. “Harry, I’ve always wanted to be married and have a family. For a couple years, I thought I had to give up that idea, but now I’m looking forward to raising our gaggle of kids in this old house. We may be young, but despite what some people think, we’re not stupid. I know what I want, and I’m not going to let anyone tell me otherwise.”

“We’re really not the type to let others tell us what to do, are we?”

George grinned his infectious smile. “Nope, not at all. So, what do you say, Mr. Potter? Shall we retire upstairs?”

“I think we shall, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, gesturing regally. “Lead the way.”

~~Finite~~


End file.
